Zombie Trouble in the Harbour City, Australia
by RailgunKizami
Summary: In the Harbour City, also known as Sydney, located in Australia, an American native studies to further his education, expecting stressful deadlines for assignments, and not a rabid disease that spread like wildfire.


**Hey guys, it's RailgunKizami. Back with another zombie story. The previous one was extremely unsatisfying to write as it was an adaptation of my everyday life situations, and things got a bit messy in between. Advice to newer writers - never write about people in your life if you're gonna lose interest or lose friendship with them.**

 **If you can get to the end of the story, leave a review, and if you're interested for more updates, give the story a follow. If you really really love the story, why not give it a favorite?**

 **Shout out to my boy NetherLordHades for inspiring me to pick up where I left off.**

It was dark. And cold. Too dark to even see six feet ahead, and too cold to not be able to feel anything. The wind howled like a banshee above, whipping loose strands of my hair back and forth. The snow felt like softened ice as it kept pummeling my figure with pellets.

I looked behind me, and, although faint, I could make out a few shambling figures behind me, slowly following me. I fought the overpowering fatigue and trudged onward.

I don't know what had happened, maybe it was the fatigue getting the better of me, but at that point in time, I hated the man above for what he had thrown me into. As if before all this shit happened I was living the life? Hell no. I was suffering just as bad before all this started.

My foot connected on one of the cold, hard branches that lay down on the path in front of me, and I winced as I stumbled slightly. I looked behind me once more and took a deep breath, sighing in relief.

Then, I heard the clicking of a gun's safety being turned off, and I turned around.

 _3 months prior_

"What do you mean, I'm not qualified?"

"I'm sorry, Mr Isaac. Our blokes here would be bloody angry and may start a fight with you."

"So just because I'm black, I'm discriminated?"

"I told you, _sir_. Our blokes don't take kindly to strangers."

I angrily left the room and slammed the door. A perfect GPA in the States, and I couldn't even get a decent job in Sydney. I walked through the streets in a hurry, hastily trying to get back to my dorm room as soon as I could in an effort to avoid the hooligans in the streets who eyed me hungrily. Though I stood tall and lanky, towering over just about everyone in the city, the bums on the street didn't seem to be intimidated one bit.

My dorm room was just three blocks away, and was conveniently situated nearby a bunch of shop lots, a supermarket and about seven blocks away from my university. The dorm building stood ten floors high; I lived on the top floor, and consistently enjoyed the overhead view of people below.

As beautiful a city Sydney was, the people contrasted heavily against the scenery. Extremely racist and locally biased, they loved to hand out derogative racial slurs to just about every race in the country.

I was born in the States, particularly in Washington, DC. My ancestors hailed from Africa, but I had been living in America practically my whole life. That is, before I arrived at Australia. I heard so many prestigious comments about Australia; the many job opportunities, and had actually tried to persuade my family if I could go there to further my education.

Well, I got my wish, but the result wasn't exactly what I would have expected. The students in the top-notch university I had applied for were decent, but trying to find a part-time job was like trying to pinch a needle out of a haystack.

I sighed and got inside my apartment, briefly grazing my short, thin hair as I observed the torrid mess that faced me – my desk. My room was a tiny thing, really; barely enough to fit one man and his bed – and nothing else. I had a little mattress and a small table squeezed in the room.

I had so many assignments to complete, and so little time to complete them. They piled up upon my table like the side of a mountain. Although I had to submit the work tomorrow, I decided to give myself a break – I had been busy trying to find side income; albeit unsuccessful, so I laid on my mattress and turned on the little television mounted on the wall opposite me.

" _Reports are saying that this problem has surfaced in nearly every country in the world, save for Singapore, which had caught wind about this problem early and quarantined their entire country. Riots are breaking out everywhere, and there has been a lot of looting. I genuinely wish that I could say the problem hasn't spread to Australia, but it has. Many cases of feral attacking has occurred in Melbourne, about 900km from where we are here at Sydney. The government has advised that you all stay at home, lock all doors, and pray for the best. That's all I have to say now, and good day."_

I switched the telly off, and cursed to myself. I hadn't got any food in my room, and got up from my mattress as my stomach screamed at me angrily, ordering me to head to the supermarket two blocks away from me.

I tried to avoid the shifty looks directed against me, and tried to drown on the various screams piercing the tense ambience of the area.

 _It must've been some sort of mugging, or gun robbery,_ I thought.

I pushed open the supermarket door, and marveled at how surprisingly empty the place was. Apart from a few wary looking men and women, the area was unusually desolate. I went over to the canned goods sections as I was extremely lazy to cook usually. I was quite unhappy, having being turned down by at least two men whilst I tried to acquire a part-time job for side income.

I decided I was going to buy extra food stocks for the future as I didn't enjoy walking down the streets as the people here weren't as friendly as those in Washington. The people in Washington were kind, friendly people. I felt as if I belonged there. It was a multiracial area, and you could commonly see black, white and Asian communities gathering to watch people of different races play each other on the basketball court.

I stuffed about ten cans of sardine in my cart, and about 20 packs of instant noodles. I also bought a box of eggs and two cartons of milk. After purchasing my goods, I hauled the plastic bags and slung them over my shoulder, trying to forget how rude and weary the cashier was.

 _Such people should just suffer for how they treat people of different skin. I never should've gone to Australia to study; I think even another state in the States would've been much better,_ I thought.

I reached home and placed a couple of eggs on the little electric stove on the floor. I beat the eggs and listened as the egg juices crackled above the intense electric heat. The scent and aroma was enough to make a grown man grovel and beg to eat it. In my opinion, I was a more than capable cook who could make household moms jealous. I was just too lazy to carry the procedure out. My friends in America told me I made the best goddamn eggs they had ever tasted.

Just as I was about to shovel the freshly cooked eggs into my mouth, a loud crash interfered with my train of thought and interrupted my reverie. Some of the egg yolk spilled onto my shirt, and I angrily moved to the window to see what exactly was going on.

Ho… ly… shit…

Outside was in mayhem. What had appeared to be an empty, quiet street earlier was filled with people screaming and chasing each other. Some people were holding baseball bats, others were holding broomsticks. Women and children were not spared from the chaos, and were brutally pummeled onto the ground. Blood was spattered everywhere. Police were desperately trying to cordon the area, trying to get everything under control. Gunshots were fired and the heavy aroma of gunpowder permeated the air. Smoke billowed from below, and fogged up the entire street, making it hard for me to see anything else.

I caught sight of a man stabbing another man with a kitchen knife. The man however, did not seem to flinch and instead, whipped his head backward and chomped on his assailant's forearm, causing an agonizing scream to be uttered. It looked like a terrorist attack.

I fumbled about with my phone, about to call 911, when suddenly the building shook and tremors attacked the floor. I lost my balance, wincing as pain flooded my wrist, causing me to lose grip on my phone. It flung accidentally from my hand, and flew out through the window.

"Shit!" I cursed aloud. Now I had no means to contact anyone. Looking around my apartment, I tried my best to assert balance as the dorm building groaned, as if it were strained trying to support all ten floors. I grabbed the half-eaten plate of eggs, which were miraculously unblemished even though the building had just gone through a small earthquake, and stuffed it all in my mouth. I removed all the schoolbooks and notebooks from my schoolbag, and replaced the contents with the canned food, the carton of eggs, the instant noodles and the milk. I put a water bottle and a bowl just in case, and ran out of the room wielding a pocket knife, small but sharp, in the case of emergencies.

Thankfully the dorm was desolate and empty, a far cry from the crazy events that was occurring on the street below. Several rooms had their doors swung wide open, as if the students living in them had already evacuated.

I remembered there was this army nut who was obsessed with tanks and projectile weaponry living right across the hall. By coincidence, the door of his room had been broken into. I ran inside his room and found the place ransacked, and splinters of wood was strewn all over. Droplets of blood seemed to form a little path that ended in the bathroom. The bathroom door was unlocked, and not knowing what I would see in there, I decided to try to find a gun in his drawers.

I managed to find a small pistol in the first drawer, and about three bullets in the second. The pistol was unloaded, so that meant I only had three shots to defend myself from any terrorists.

"Help me…" a voice sounded from inside the bathroom. The door was ajar, and the pungent metallic aroma of blood wafted from the toilet. I slowly inched closer, hearing gagging come from the toilet. I peered inside, and saw the army nut on the floor, his stomach split open, eyes gazing up at me in pain. Crimson blood leaked from the corner of his mouth as he murmured, "Help…"

There was another figure squatting above him, busily engaged with the action of shoving several intestines into her mouth as she chewed. I recognized the figure; her name was Layla, she was the army nut's girlfriend who stayed with him as the man was loaded with money.

I took a few steps back, then winced as my long limbs accidentally bumped against a lamp. The sounds of sloppy ingestion ceased, and Layla crept out of the bathroom, her fingernails caked with dried blood. Her face was bloody and purple, and her eyes were stark white. Her eyes locked onto me and she shambled quickly, arms outstretched as she pushed me onto the ground.

Panic seized ahold of me as I desperately pushed her back. She screamed and continued trying to bite my jugular. I reached for the knife I kept at my side and tried to stab her arm, but this woman was pretty strong for her size.

I kicked her abdomen and she released her grip on me, stumbling backward and hitting the wall. This allowed me to catch my breath for an instance, and I hastily got back on my feet. She was still convulsing from the shove and the impact of the wall, and because I feared she was a minion of the terrorist organization, I stabbed her heart with a knife.

But for some reason, she didn't cry out. She didn't crumple and collapse. Instead, her head whipped back and her teeth latched onto my right wrist. Instinctively, I jerked my hand back, causing the skin on my wrist to tear and blood to flow out.

I cried out as excruciating pain engulfed my wrist, but I knew I had no time to dwell on the agony. If attacking her heart wouldn't do it, maybe the brain would. Pain was easily replaced by rage as I held the knife high, bringing it down on her head.

Dark colored blood leaked out, so dark it didn't resemble human blood. Any movement from Layla simmered to a stop as this time, she collapsed for good without shivering. Because the smell of the army nut's body was so strong, I shut the bathroom door. He didn't seem to be alive, anyway.

However, something nagged at me. I had seen several people biting others earlier on the street, and Layla had been chewing on her boyfriend like a dog biting its bone. What if the terrorists had designed a biological weapon to turn a normal human into a rabid dog like Layla? Her eyes were white, and her mouth was frothing a little bit, just like a dog with rabies.

The main way rabies was spread was by biting.

And I had been bitten by Layla. Shit, shit, shit! Curses and vulgar words interrupted my train of thought, but my mind decided to cover up the bite wound before it got infected. Fortunately, the army nut was also a survivalist nut. His kitchen cupboards not only contained canned goods, but also medical supplies. I dabbed at the bite wound with some antiseptic that utterly burned the vulnerable flesh and hurt like a son of a bitch, and with my good left hand, I covered it up with a thick bandage.

My right hand was functioning rather slowly, but it could still pick up some canned goods and stuff it in my bag, albeit at the cost of a sharp jolt of pain. Suddenly, there was a thud on the bathroom door that I had closed. Snarling sounds echoed from inside the room, and the door was being thumped on with a fury I'd never seen a mortally wounded man do before. I mean, the man could barely move earlier; his stomach had been torn apart and he was on the verge of death when his rabid girlfriend was eating him.

As sirens sounded about me, a thought that had been in my head for a long time finally surfaced. Just what was happening to the world?


End file.
